


After Hours

by jesvisfarovche



Series: Sous Le Ciel De Paris [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Enjolras cant flirt, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, not quite canon era but not quite modern au, you can barely see it but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 07:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16551827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesvisfarovche/pseuds/jesvisfarovche
Summary: In which Grantaire wakes up in the Musain and finds out that the reality can be way better than his dreams.





	After Hours

 

Grantaire finds himself in Paris. Well, somewhere that looks remarkably like Paris, if maybe a bit too perfect. Instead of usual noise (which, to be honest, he has grown to find endearing) he hears music and barely distinguishable chatter. And laughter, so much happy laughter. It feels nice, so nice he can`t help but smile as walks along a street. It looks familiar, and yet he struggles to recognize it. He wonders if he is dreaming.

Everything looks real, but not quite. First of all, the light and the colors. Everything is a bit too beautiful. It`s like he`s stuck in an impressionist painting. And Grantaire doesn’t even like impressionists. He has always preferred ancient art, or at least Renaissance.

Oh, and by the way, he has yet to return The Iliad to the university library. It`s about time he gave it back. The librarian will probably have a lot to say about him making notes on the pages. This is why it`s taking him so long. It`s a miracle Grantaire was even allowed to take another book in the first place. Especially after he took some of the Freud`s works “to work on an assignment” and proceeded to deface the pages with his critique of Freud`s teachings and the man himself. It was a pretty bad day and he was drunk and sexually frustrated - not a good mix. To be honest, those have been his two dominant emotions as of lately.

Weirdly, now Grantaire doesn’t feel drunk. Or sexually frustrated, for that matter. He`s…happy. Content, at least. And eager about something.

At least now he knows where he is. It`s Montmartre. His favorite place in Paris. Maybe in the entire world. He wouldn’t mistake it for any other place, then why he couldn’t he recognize it at first?

When Grantaire first came to Paris, he was overwhelmed. The sounds, the smells, the rhythm – it was all too much for him. After all, before he came here he had spent his entire life in a small town the name of which he`d gladly forget. He had no friends, and his family…well, let`s just say he hears from them every once in a while and even that is too often. At first Grantaire didn`t like Paris, and the feeling was mutual. He thought about leaving the city. He wasn’t too eager to become a university student anyway. He would never come back home, but he could go somewhere else. He could just travel around Europe by bus, train or hitchhiking.

Grantaire had almost made up his mind when something happened. He fell in love with Paris. For a couple of weeks he had been walking around the city, until the it`s map was burned out on the backside of his mind. And then, standing on the Montmartre and just taking everything in, he realized that he would never think about leaving Paris ever again. His heart was beating to the rhythm of Paris. At last Grantaire was home.

Well, Paris wasn’t the only thing Grantaire fell in love with, but now is not the time to think about that.

As he walks through the crowd, and waves and smiles to familiar faces, he can`t help but feel like something`s missing. Or rather someone. He looks around searching for a face, not even knowing who it is he`s looking for.

"Grantaire!", he doesn’t know where that`s coming from

And then there`s a flash of gold in front of his eyes and a hand on his shoulder and an unfamiliar tone of a familiar voice.

"There you are!"

Right in front of him, in all his statuesque glory, stands Enjolras. He is practically glowing under the evening sunlight. His golden curls are messy as per usual, and the way they frame the man`s perfect face is enough to make Grantaire feel week in the knees. This isn’t fair, he thinks.

He may not be drunk, but sexual frustration has just come back with vengeance.

"I`ve been looking for you for so long!", there`s something different about his voice, "I was afraid you wouldn’t come!"

Enjolras is as passionate as always, but instead of usual steely cold he radiates softness and…warmth?

And what is he doing here, on Montmartre of all places, looking for Grantaire? Waiting for Grantaire?

Oh no, Grantaire thinks as he notices the way Enjolras looks at him. The usual disdain is gone, replaced by fondness. He is dreaming after all.

There`s no other explanation of the way Enjolras takes him by the hand as they walk through the crowd. Or the way his lips curl up a little bit when he talks to Grantaire, never really taking eyes off him.

Grantaire is definitely dreaming. Well, if so, he`s going to milk this dream for what it`s worth.

Suddenly they are sitting next to the Seine. The setting sun has colored everything into shades of red. Enjolras is still glowing. This isn’t fair, Grantaire would think, had it been real Enjolras, the untouchable one. The one who never looks at Grantaire like he`s the most important person in the world. This one – the dream Enjolras – does. And it seems like he`s looking for an excuse to touch Grantaire. So far he has touched him seven times, Grantaire has counted. It may be a dream, but this Enjolras feels more real than the one Grantaire encounters daily in his real life. He can feel the warmth of this Enjolras. He can smell his hair (it smells like roses). He can-

Can he?

To test his theory (what`s the worst that can happen?) Grantaire moves closer to Enjolras. The man doesn’t move away, so Grantaire continues. He test the waters by putting his hand on Enjolras`s face. He leans into the touch, so Grantaire smiles and moves their faces closer, inch by inch.

"Grantaire", Enjolras breathes out, and it`s the most wonderful sound in the world

Grantaire moves closer. Their lips are barely an inch apart

"Grantaire!"

There it is. The familiar sound. The one he hears nearly every day as a reaction to nearly everything he says.

Grantaire opens his eyes. It takes him a moment to register where he is, He`s sitting at his usual table at the Musain. And above him, in all his statuesque glory, stands Enjolras. The real one. The one that`s lately been the reason of all Grantaire`s drunkenness and sexual frustration. The one that currently looks very displeased with Grantaire. And his fase, despite the expression, is still perfect.

This isn’t fair, Grantaire thinks.

"Enjolras", that’s all he manages to say. His voice is raspy and it almost hurts him to speak.

"Finally"

It is just now that Grantaire realizes there`s a firm hand on his shoulder. He can feel his heart beginning to beat faster before the hand is gone in a swift motion.

Grantaire doesn't remember falling asleep. He can’t  remember what today’s meeting was even about. Enjolras probably made another fiery speech, that’s a given. And Grantaire, as per usual, let himself drown in Enjolras's voice, hypnotized by the tone and the cadence. In another lifetime, that man could lead an army. Or (much more preferably to Grantaire) perform on stage, breathing life into written words.

The first time Grantaire met Enjolras he felt as if he had been struck by lightning. Ever since childhood he had been obsessed with Antient Greece - the history, the myths, the poetry. Whenever his family became unbearable he would escape into the world or gods and heroes. He had never thought he would meet one of them in real life until he saw this man. _Apollo_ , was his first thought. Enjolras looked like one of the statues pictured in his books. Sometimes Grantaire felt the urge to touch him just to see if Enjolras was indeed made of marble. But he never would, not in this lifetime.

Enjolras intrigued and fascinated Grantaire. He was beautiful, the most handsome man Grantaire has ever seen. And, as if to compensate for his looks, or maybe to distract from them, Enjolras was also incredibly well-read and passionate. Passionate about freedom, about making the world a better place for the miserable and oppressed. So many times Grantaire has seen him ignite people with his words, make them believe in his ideas, make them eager to fight for a better life. Even Grantaire, who has sworn off pledging to any ideology a long time ago, has suddenly found himself attending every meeting of Les Amis de L'ABC – the  student political group founded by Enjolras  and two of his friends, Combeferre and Courfeyrac – and even making suggestions for their plans, taking part in protests and other events. He ended up designing posters and a logo for the group. That earned Grantaire a smile and a pat on the back from the fearless leader, a memory he has cherished ever since.

To his own horror, Grantaire began to believe. Not in a dogma or an idea, but in a man. The feeling scared at first, he even thought of leaving Les Amis. But he couldn’t leave his friends, those beautiful naïve romantics. He couldn’t leave Enjolras.

It took Grantaire a while to really understand what has happened to him. The lightning that struck him when he met Enjolras was a _coup de foudre_ -  love at first sight. This is why watching Enjolras from afar, standing next to him sometimes, brought Grantaire  as much pain as pleasure.

He couldn’t escape this man if he wanted to. Whenever Grantaire managed to live through a day without seeing Enjolras, the young rebel would appear in his dreams to tease and torture him. Grantaire would wake up in sweat, panting heavily. And then he would change his sheets and force himself to fall asleep again. Usually with the help of some wine.

Sometimes Enjolras would appear in his nightmares. He would look at Grantaire with pure hatred and disdain and then he would turn away and vanish. Grantaire would wake up with tears in his eyes and no hope to fall asleep again. Then he would rise from his bed and try to chase the pain away with his paintbrush.

Today’s dream was different though. The usual ones were the manifestations of either Grantaire’s fears or his desires. This one was something different. It was too pure, too happy, too hopeful.

Now Grantaire has really fallen hard for this man. The man that currently stares at him with a puzzled look.

"Are you alright?" asks Enjolras, his brows furrowed.

God, you’re beautiful, Grantaire thinks.

"Um, thanks?" Enjolras blinks a couple of times.

Did Grantaire just say that out loud?

"Sorry", Grantaire gives Enjolras a bashful smile, "I’m still a bit drunk I guess".

"It's alright",  that’s all Enjolras says before he goes to take something from another table. 

Grantaire watches him in silence. Enjolras meets his gaze and swiftly lowers his eyes.

Is he flustered, Grantaire thinks and shakes off the thought immediately. Enjolras does not get flustered, not from Grantaire`s stupid commentaries anyway.

Grantaire attempts to stand up, but his legs have fallen asleep. Just how much time has he been dozed off?

He looks around. The Musain is empty.

"The meeting ended an hour ago",  Enjolras answers the silent question. He doesn’t sound annoyed, much to Grantaire`s surprise.

Is Grantaire still dreaming? He must be. But Enjolras in front of him is not the dream Enjolras. That one was obviously just a fantasy of his. A rather poor and lazy one, to be honest. It felt too polished and self-indulgent. Now that Grantaire is awake he can see that his dream didn’t do Enjolras any justice at all.

"So it`s just the two of us here?"

Enjolras nods.

"I promised to close the café. I had to finish my essay"

Grantaire can see the notebook in the man`s hands. Those perfect marble hands.

How the hell does Enjolras manage to occupy Grantaire`s entire world whenever he`s around? Right now they are so close it`s overwhelming. Now that he`s sober Grantaire can barely make up any words in his head. If Joly or Bossuet were here right now, they`d surely make fun of him.

"I…", Grantaire doesn't know what to say, but he has to say something, right? "What time is it?"

"Almost midnight. Sorry I woke you up so roughly. But you sleep so deeply and…"

"It's alright", Grantaire smiles, "Did you finish your essay?"

"Yes, it's done. I'm turning it up tomorrow"

A lot of people think of Enjolras as a meticulous planner, always careful, always perfectly prepared for everything. Grantaire thought so too initially. Now he knows that Enjolras often dives headfirst with no backup plan. And he can barely keep himself alive. When he cut ties with his family he was practically adopted by Courfeyrac and Combeferre, who would take turns to make sure Enjolras is well-fed and his clothes are clean and ironed. And with all his intelligence Enjolras is far from a model student. He only pays attention in classes he's interested in and he often waits for the last minute to finish his assignments. A couple of times Grantaire has witnessed Enjolras getting schooled by Combeferre for his poor working ethic.

It didn't ruin Grantaire's fascination with Enjolras, it just made the man feel more real. More human. More unpredictable.

"Do you want to read my essay?", asks Enjolras, catching Grantaire completely off-guard.

Unpredictable alright.

"Yeah, sure", says Grantaire, and in a second there's a notebook in his hand.

He sits more comfortably and gestures for Enjolras to sit down too. There are four seats at the table, but Enjolras chooses the one that's right next to Grantaire's. Grantaire takes a deep breath. There's a slight flowery smell. Roses. This is not going to be easy for him.

"Please, be honest with me. Don't withhold from making notes. And just tell me it's shitty. I swear I can handle it"

Grantaire chuckles at Enjolras's use of words. He chuckles again at the man's worried expression.

"I've just started, calm down", feeling sudden wave of boldness Grantaire looks at Enjolras teasingly, "I thought you didn't like me nitpicking at your words"

Enjolras just shrugs.

"I don't mind legitimate critique. What I do mind is distracting commentary"

"Sometimes it's all I can give, I`m just-"

"You're too hard on yourself", Enjolras cuts him off abruptly, but his voice is still soft.

Grantaire can feel blood rising to his cheeks. He lowers his head trying to pull all his attention to the essay.

It's good. Very well-written, if a bit too emotional. But when he reads he can hear Enjolras's voice in his head. He can see his glimmering eyes and golden hair. It's like a window to the man's thoughts. It's honest and open and real. And it's almost too much for Grantaire to handle.

Especially when Enjolras is right next to him. Watching him carefully like he doesn't want to miss a single change of Grantaire's expression. Like his opinion really matters.

What a silly fantasy.

"What do you think?"

Grantaire can only hope Enjolras doesn't notice him blushing.

"Do you want to know what I think or what your professor would think?"

Enjolras scoffs.

"I don't care what he would think, his an old conservative idiot. Maybe if he got his head out of his ass and learned to listen to the students I would care about his fucking opinion"

"Enjolras!", Grantaire exclaims in a mockingly scandalized tone, "I've never heard you say such profanities"

Enjolras looks at him. He bites his lip as if to keep himself from smiling. Still, there's a glimmer in his eyes.

"I like it. You should curse more"

Enjolras almost smiles. Almost. It's still enough to make Grantaire's heart twitch.

"What about the essay?"

"It's good. You have your way with words. If your professor doesn't appreciate it, screw him. Not literally"

That earns him a chuckle from Enjolras. Grantaire can feel something tighten in his chest. Oh, the precious pain.

"So you like it?"

"I love it. You should publish it somewhere"

Enjolras smiles. His smile is bright enough to light up the whole room. And he's smiling at Grantaire. And all Grabtaire really wants to do right now is to kiss him. And he can't. This isn't fair.

"I'm glad you like it. I didn't sleep tonight trying to get it right. And even then I had to edit some passages."

"That's too bad. You should seriously work on your sleeping habits. After all, you have to wake up so early to bring back the sun with your chariot."

Enjolras raises his eyebrows. Then he understands and laughs.

"God, you and your mythology references!"

"I don't hear you denying anything"

Enjolras laughs again.

"You think I look like Apollo?"

His eyes are so blue, Grantaire thinks.

"I could confuse you with one of those statues"

Enjolras shakes his head.

"Trust me, I'm human", he takes Grantaire's hand and presses it to his cheek, "You see? Flesh and blood"

Oh, Grantaire sees. Enjolras is definitely not made of marble. Grantaire can feel the warmth of his body under his fingertips. Enjolras's skin is soft, he probably doesn't have to shave. Now that their faces are so close, Grantaire can see the pale freckles on Enjolras's nose and cheeks.

Grantaire is so used to imagining Enjolras as an ethereal being, he`s taken by surprise by just how human the man is. Though he's more of a boy now, watching Grantaire from under his thick eyelashes. As though he's as fascinated by Grantaire as Grantaire is of him. And he's…blushing?

Grantaire's hand slips lower, and Enjolras let's out a heavy breath. Grantaire can feel his pulse rising. And now he can also feel Enjolras' heartbeat. It's as frantic and unsteady as his own. Why?

Enjolras looks at him, but his gaze doesn't reach Grantaire's eyes. Instead, Enjolras is staring right at his mouth.

Just what the hell is going on, Grantaire thinks. It would take a simple movement – to catch Enjolras's lips with his own. That's a stupid idea, he thinks.

"May I?" – he says

Enjolras looks him right in the eyes and nods.

"Yes", - he breathes out.

Grantaire moves slowly as if he's hypnotized. Well, in a way he is, isn't he. He gives Enjolras a reassuring smile as he pulls their faces closer. And then he plants a soft kiss on Enjolras's cheek.

Grantaire can feel Enjolras shiver. He doesn't know ìf it's good or bad. He pulls away. Enjolras looks at him with an unreadable expression.

At least it's not disgust.

Wait. Enjolras wanted this. Grantaire has just kissed him. This makes no sense.

Grantaire has been in love with Enjolras for ages but he mostly kept away from him, especially after realizing just how deep these feelings ran. He'd spend time with other members of Les Amis, mostly Joly and Bossuet, but he never approached Enjolras. He knew the guy would never return his sentiments, so it was less painful to just watch him from afar instead of facing rejection. Even if looking at Enjolras sometimes felt like staring at the sun.

And now not only has he approached Enjolras, he has kissed him. It was just a chaste kiss on the cheek – Grantaire wouldn't dare to do anything else – but it happened. Enjolras wanted this to happen. And he asked Grantaire to read his essay like he really cared about his opinion. What. The. Hell.

Is he still drunk? Is he still sleeping?

Grantaire wants to pinch himself, but decides against it. Instead, he stands up.

"We should probably close the café"

Enjolras looks at him and blinks a couple of times, as if he can't understand a word of what Grantaire’s just said. He takes a breath then and rises from his seat.

"You're right. It's really late"

They put the chairs in proper positions, turn off the lights and leave the Musain. Enjolras takes the key and locks the door. Grantaire watches him as if it's the most spectacular show in the world. To him it is.

Tonight he will get drunk again, to numb the ache in his heart. And maybe when he falls asleep there will be darkness with no trace of this terrible young man with golden hair. Or perhaps he will be there, as charming as ever, and he will smile at Grantaire the way he never does in reality. Grantaire doesn’t know which way is better or worse.

"Do you live far from here?" – Enjolras’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

Grantaire shakes his head.

"Just ‘round the corner. Literally five minutes from here"

Something shifts in Enjolras’ expression. But it's gone before Grantaire can pin it down.

"It's about half an hour by bus. But it's too late, so I’ll go by feet"

"Alone during the night?"

Enjolras scoffs.

"I can take care of myself"

"I know"

Neither of them moves. They’re just looking at one another like it's a staring contest. And Grantaire knows well enough that Enjolras does not give up easily no matter what game he’s playing.

"Do you want me to walk with you?"

"Yes", Enjolras's reply comes fast. And loud.

It seems to be it takes his mind a second to catch up with his tongue, because then Enjolras looks down like he’s embarrassed.

"I mean, if you want to. If you don’t mind"

"I don’t mind. I have nothing better to do. And I’m probably aren’t going to get much sleep anyway"

Enjolras gives him a smile.

"You should really work on your sleeping patterns"

"You’re one to talk", with sudden boldness Grantaire playfully shoves Enjolras.

Enjolras laughs and shoves him back.

"I’ve things to do. You know, school work, Les Amis, protests and rallies. And the chariot isn’t going to ride itself"

"Oh, so now you’re admitting your divine nature?"

The moonlight makes Enjolras's hair shine with silver. Grantaire now understands moths that fly blindly towards the light. He wants to step closer, to tough Enjolras again.

He wants to kiss the man again, and next time he won’t hesitate and chicken out at the last second.

He knows there won’t be a next time

Enjolras winks at him. Enjolras. Winks.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about"

He takes a step and turns to Grantaire.

"Are you coming? You don’t have to, but-"

"I’m coming. Lead the way"

 

And so they’re on their way. Grantaire expects it to be awkward, walking with Enjolras. After all, what would this man talk to him about? Enjolras has all those passions and interests, and Grantaire is, well, Grantaire. Nothing special.

But somehow they end up talking non-stop. Enjolras asks him questions. Somehow he knows about an art showcase Grantaire's supposed to take a part in (if he finishes his painting, that is). And he wonders is he can come. Sure, Grantaire says. He wonders if he should definitely finish his work now or just burn it and lock himself inside his appartment.

"I’m having some trouble with my classics class", Enjolras says, as they walk along the Seine.

"Really? What kind of trouble?"

"I like the poetry, you know. More than I’ve expected to, actually. I mean, I didn’t like it at first, but then-"

Grantaire hears Enjolras take a deep breath.

"Then it started growing on me. I just wish I could understand it better"

"What about your professor? Have you talked to him?"

"He’s so self-obsessed. We don’t even have proper discussions. He just forces his opinions on everyone"

Grantaire smiles at the way Enjolras wrinkles his nose. How can one guy be both fierce and adorable at the same time?

And charming. Effortlessly charming.

"Well, maybe I could help? Since I’m majoring in classics. We could meet up sometime and, you know, discuss greek poetry?"

 _Discuss greek poetry_ , that sounds like world’s lamest innuendo, Grantaire thinks.

"That would be nice. I mean, I’ve heard your rants about Homer a couple weeks ago. They were better than any lecture I’ve been to"

Grantaire doesn’t know how to deal with this information. So he blushes.

Paris is beautiful in the nighttime. Thee silver light of the moon combined with the golden light of the street lamps transforms everything into a fairytale setting. The way the lights are reflected by the Seine is hypnotizing. Grantaire stops to take a better look.

"It's beautiful", he hears, coming from beside him.

"It is", Grantaire breathes out.

If he can’t get his beloved to return his feelings, at least he still has Paris.

But it's so easy now to imagine what could’ve been. In his dreams Grantaire is walking the streets of the City of Lights with Enjolras beside him. There are so many places Grantaire wants to show him. So many corners of the city they would claim as their own. He would take Enjolras to Montmarte to teach him to relax and live a little. They would dance and laugh, and-

Enjolras puts a hand on Grantaire's shoulder, pulling him back into reality.

There's a cold breeze coming from the Seine.

"Do you want to…get closer to the water?"

Grantaire shrugs.

"I mean, I do, but...", Enjolras's hand is still on his shoulder. It's super distracting, "Don’t you have to get home?"

"I do, but it's already late. What’s another ten minutes? Plus, we're almost there"

They get closer to the water. Grantaire takes off his coat and puts it on the ground. He gestures for Enjolras to sit down. And so Enjolras does, taking his place mere inches away from Grantaire. Then he takes of his coat and puts it on Grantaires's shoulders.

"It's only fair this way", Enjolras says.

The coat is warm, and it smells like Enjolras. And Enjolras himself is so close Grantaire can hear him breathing. He is everywhere. Grantaire simultaneously wants to stay like this forever and run away.

The view is mesmerizing. And romantic. Too romantic. And he’s here with Enjolras, they’re practically pressed together. And he's wearing Enjolras's coat and-

Enjolras shivers.

"It's fine", he says.

Grantaire has either the smartest of the most stupid idea in the world. There's only one way to know.

He moves even closer to Enjolras and covers them both with the coat. Enjoloras looks at him, his eyebrows raised.

"We don’t want you to catch a cold now, do we? Les Amis need their leader happy and healthy"

"Maybe I want to catch a cold. And then I’d force you to take care of me out of guilt"

"I thought you said you can take care of yourself?"

"Oh, I can", Enjolras’ s lips curl into a smirk. A goddamn smirk, "But maybe I don’t want to"

Grantaire just stares at him, blankly. He doesn’t know what to say.

"Why didn’t you kiss me?"

Grantaire feels his stomach flip.

"At the Musain", Enjolras adds unnecessarily.

"I did"

"On the cheek!"

"Still counts"

Enjolras shakes his head.

"Not really"

"Well, I wasn’t sure what you wanted"

"You didn’t ask if you could kiss me?"

"I did, but..."

"And said yes, didn’t I? And then you just pecked my cheek"

Grantaire opens his mouth, but no words come out.

"Are you…mad at me?"

Enjolras raises his eyebrow.

"Mad is a harsh word. I’m pretty upset with you, though"

"Okay..."

"You can make it up to me"

"How?"

Enjolras gives him a mischievous smile.

"Kiss me"

Grantaire blinks.

"Is this a joke?"

"Am I a joking type?"

"I don’t know. You keep catching me off-guard with all your words and-"

Enjolras rolls his eyes.

"-and your smiles and your hair, your goddamn hair. And your voice, it’s driving me insane, it's-"

He doesn’t get to finish. Enjolras pulls him in and kissed him. Hard.

"You’re so frustrating", he mutters against Grantaire's lips.

"You’re one to talk", Grantaire pulls him in for another kiss.

Grantaire can feel his skin burn where Enjolas touches him. And those hands just keep wandering all over his torso.

"You compare me to ancient statues but it’s you who has the body of one"

"Shut up"

"Not unless you make me"

They kiss again like their lives depend on it. And again. And again.

"This is so much better than my dreams", Grantaire says when they stop to take a breath.

Their foreheads are pressed together and so are their bodies. The air around them is getting colder, but Grantaire doesn’t mind.

"So you’ve been dreaming about me?"

Grantaire can feel himself blush.

"A little bit"

"What did we do in those dreams?"

"That’s a long story"

"We have time"

"It's late. And cold"

Enjolras smiles.

"We can go to my place. You can tell me there",  he strokes Grantaire’s cheek, "Unless you don’t want to"

"Lead the way"

 

It's almost dawn and Grantaire is still at Enjolras’s place, in Enjolras's bed and Enjolras is laying on his chest. They're practically wrapped around each other, even their breaths are synchronized. Grantaire can’t comprehend how he has ended up here.

"Are you alright?" Enjolras raises his head up a little bit. His hair is messed up and he looks sleepy

"I’m great", Grantaire gives him a smile.

"Go to sleep then"

"I’ll try", Grantaire says as he pulls Enjolras closer.

"You’ll still be here when I wake up, right?"

"Where else would I be? You’ll probably have to chase me away with a broom or something"

Enjolras laughs.

"I didn’t spend so much time trying to get your attention to chase you away right after I got you"

"You were trying to get my attention?"

"For months"

"Oh my God",  Grantaire lets out a laugh, "You have to tell me more!"

"I will. In the morning"

"It is morning"

"Not until I get my sleep, it isn’t"

"Enjolras!"

"I’m tired. You`ve worn me down"

And in a matter of seconds, Enjolras is asleep. 

"Are you serious?"

There's no answer. Just the world’s cutest snore.

"This isn’t fair!"

The sun rises over the city. And as Paris begins to wake up, Grantaire plunges into sleep with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first attempt to contribute to the Les Mis fandom, and I`m nervous as hell.Thank you for reading my fic! Please, feel free to leave a comment.  
> 


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